Heart Of Time
by C.J. Davis
Summary: This is the sequel to Time of the Heart. Delaney finds herself back in her time, with people who aren’t strangers to her but she is a stranger to them. Can love’s flame be rekindled? Will Tristan finally find the love he deserves?
1. Chapter 1

This is the sequel to Time of the Heart. Delaney finds herself back in her time, with people who aren't strangers to her; but she is a stranger to them. Can love's flame be rekindled? Will Tristan finally find the love he deserves?

A/N Just a note to say mucho gracias to my beta, Ailis70. I couldn't do this without you! Hope this prologue gets your appetites wet for what's to come!

I make no money from this, I own nothing (darn it all) the only thing mine besides Delaney and her sister are the plot and mistakes.

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Heart Of Time

Prologue

He nodded absently at his friend's rambling. Watching the road intently. Denver had been chilly and raining; meaning they would soon run into snow as they got closer to Summit pass and the town of Summit. The night was cloudy and morose. He noticed a vehicle in front of them and slowed. The thought of getting home quickly to a warm house and good beer quickly slowly becoming a non reality. Watching the speeding erratically driven vehicle intently. His gut tightening as he realized that it was an accident waiting to happen. Just then the car went through the guard rail and down the enbankment. He found himself pulling over, hands still gripping his steering wheel thinking "Why does this happen to me?" With a sigh he got out. He looked at the profile of his companion, they both glanced at each other and sighed. He then stepped out of his SUV and made his way to the downed vehicle.

He saw the rumpled wreck. The small Saturn was wrapped around a large tree, luckily the driver's side was still in fairly good condition; he hoped there wasn't a passenger; the person was dead if there was. He managed to pull the door open with the sound similar to a can lid being peeled back. Metal groaning as he unbuckled the woman's seat belt. Blood oozed sluggishly from a split lip. He couldn't tell what other damage there was due to lack of light. He reached in and pressed the latch holding her seat belt. He smelled the air; thankful no sent of gas could be detected. He pulled the woman as gently as he could from the wreckage.

Delaney felt someone pulling her. She looked up. Her car door had been ripped from its hinges and now someone had unbuckled her seatbelt and was pulling her from her car. Her head throbbed. "Leave me alone."

"Look lady, it's snowing out here and you'll freeze to death. You have a possible concussion. So shut up and let me help you." She turned and looked at the man, he had dark hair; she presumed brown and dark eyes. His face, she knew his face. "Tristan?" She gasped.

He pulled back, looking at her. Another image super imposed itself. An image of someone flogging her, at a stone keep. Then just as quickly the image was replaced by him (it had to be him, because he was seeing through his eyes) running down an alleyway in the rain and then having her jump upon him and laughing. He blinked his eyes and looked down at the woman, the cut above the eye, hair haphazardly in disarray about her face and stuck with blood. It had been her. He shook his head, trying to organize his thoughts. He was going crazy.

"Tristan, what's wrong?"

Delaney's ears rang with the sound of the voice, "Lancelot?" She whispered. Her vision going black.

Tristan sighed, as gently as he could he removed her from the car. He made sure her head was as secure as possible underneath his chin and against his shoulder. Lancelot was standing halfway down the embankment watching them. "She has a concussion." Tristan called, "I need the extra blankets from the back of the truck." Lancelot hurried back up to the SUV. He was back down with Tristan holding an armful of blankets. He laid a couple down on the snow and helped Tristan lay the woman on top of them. He had also grabbed a flashlight, he flicked it on and bathed the woman in the bluish light. "She has a split lip, and what looks to be bruising around the face.

"I don't think that's from her accident." Tristan squatted down next to his friend. He then picked up a hand; motioning to her wrist, "Nor this."

Lancelot shook his head, "She has a story to tell." He gave Tristan the flashlight and drew a cell phone from his inside jacket pocket. He punched in the numbers for 911.

Tristan continued to examine the woman; feeling for any broken bones. Even though she was unconcious; when he felt her ribs she inhaled sharply. He piled more blankets upon her and then stood. Lancelot closed the phone and looked over at him. "They said that they are on their way. The paramedics are coming from Summit, won't take them as long to get here. So I guess we wait." He stared at the woman. Something in him stirred, a memory of clasped hands and bent heads. He shook it off. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

"Not my fault that you got a ticket for speeding. I told you that since it was close to the end of the month the cops would be out in full force. You could have just waited at Starbuck's for me."

"I had to stop by the bank and take care of some things." He muttered, still watching the woman.

"I realize that, but so did I, would it have really killed you to wait 20 minutes?" Tristan too couldn't shake the feeling he knew this woman. The images kept repeating themselves but that still didn't explain who she was.

"I guess not, since that's about how long it took for the cop to write the ticket." Lancelot stared at the honey colored hair, fighting to not brush it off the woman's cheek. Why did he want to touch a stranger? Especially one that wasn't going to warm his bed?

"See." Tristan finally turned towards the road; partially to hide his smirk, partially because he was looking for flashing lights or the sounds of sirens in the distance.


	2. And thus it begins, again

Author's note: Long time no read! Just a note to say this is chapter 1 of Heart of Time. If you need a refresher, read the first story, Time of the Heart. This story takes up right where Time of the heart leaves off. Hope you like!

I own nothing but the plot, Delaney, and Debra. Really would like to own Tristan and Lancelot and the others... but I do not. deep sigh 

Delaney awoke to a bright light and a headache. She vaguely remembered feeling this way awhile ago. She blinked her eyes, adjusting to the blinding white of the room and realized she was in a hospital. THen she remembered, everything. She remembered Morgana making her choose between Lancelot and Tristan and then suddenly she was in a ditch. Tristan helping her from her car. She remembered hearing Lancelot, she stifled a sob. A nurse came over and gently patted her arm, "There there, it will all be alright." Delaney mustered a smile of reassurance and attempted to sit up.

"Now, don't over do it, dear. You've been in an accident." The nurse reached for her wrist, "and by the looks of it something else."

"You could say that." Delaney muttered.

THe nurse looked at her and saw she was shivering, "Let me go get a blanket for you dear. Just a moment okay?" With an affectionant pat on the hand the nurse opened the door and slipped out, not before Delaney heard Tristan's voice ringing through the corridor.

"I need to talk to her."

Delaney looked over at the mostly closed door to her room. She could hear the yelling through it and see Tristan, or the man who resembled her Tristan aruging with a small slight nurse. The only telling sign was her graying hair was in the tightest bun Delaney had seen.

"Young Man, you will not see this woman until I say you can see her, and I don't say you can."

Tristan held a picture and something else to the woman and again, Delaney heard her say, "I don't care if you're the President of the United States, unless you are family, you aren't seeing her."

Tristan raised his voice, became more emphatic and this time Delaney saw the woman reach up and start poking him in the chest, emphasizing each syllable with a poke. "Young Man, you had best leave or I will personally escort you out of here!"

Tristan was about to say something else when Lancelot laid a hand upon his shoulder and gently escorted him out of Delaney's view. Just then the nurse slipped back into the room, blanket over her arm , "Magda won't let any harm come to you deary. However, the dark haired one was quite handsome. Do you know them? I might be able to get one of them in if he's a fiancee or something." She whispered consipiritorily as she adjusted Delaney's blanket.

"Not in this lifetime," Delaney muttered to herself.

"Now dear, you just rest. We won't let anyone in until you are good and ready to have visitors." she paused a moment then said, "My name is Rose." With that she whisked her way out of the room and quietly shut the door.

Delaney heard raised voices once again and opened her eyes in a squint. She tried to stretch and remembered as she felt the pull of the IV where she was. She rolled her neck side to side to get the kink out. She had dozed off sitting up again. There was silence and Magda tiptoed into the room. "Dear, there are a couple of policement out here that need to speak with you. If you are not up to it just say so and I'll send them on their way."

"It's okay, I'll talk to them. I kind of expected them to be here sooner or later."

"We'll be monitoring everything at the nurses station, if I hear one bleep that says you're not relaxed, I'm kicking them out."

Magda paused by the door, Delaney ran her hand through her hair real quick and then gave her a thumbs up. With that, Magda escorted the two cops in.

Delaney looked at them, studying them. The woman was average, average height, average hair color, average sized. She could have blended in anywhere, except the piercing green eyes. They took her face from average to enticing. The man, was an average man, except his nose. His nose was very crooked, reminded Delaney of a statue who's nose had to be re done after vandals broke it. He went from non descript to his Nose being memoriable. "Ms. McAllister,I'm officer Johnson and this is officer Smith, we're here to speak with you about a call you made at precisely 5:44 today. You said that your ex husband was in violation of his restraining order."

Delaney couldn't help her smirk, "Ya think?" She held up a wrist for them to inspect.

"We're sorry, Ma'am--"

"Delaney, Please."

"Delaney. When we arrived no one was there. Could you please tell us what happened?"

Delaney took a deep breath and explained all of the details from the time she walked into the house and she found Brent waiting for her, to the time she ran down the hall calling 911. To the time Tristan and Lancelot found her in her car off in the ditch. "And now I'm here." She finished.

The woman was busy scribbling notes, the man was taking pictures of her face and wrists. The man put the camera away and then said, "We're leaving a guard on your door. Sven wasn't in the house when we got there."

"What? Who's Sven?"

"Sven Anatoli, your ex husband?"

"My ex-husband is named Brent Maratov."

After perusing her notes the dectective looked up, "Sven is his name on his passport. Brent must be one of his pseudonyms. Anyway, he was not at your house when we arrived."

"Does this shock you?"

"As I said before Ms Smith, I thought I had strangled him."

"Well apparently it was to the point where he was unconcious, not dead. We'll be in touch." With that they left. Delaney buzzed for the nurse.

Magda came bustling in, "Yes dear?"

"How long am I to stay here?"

"Over night for observation."

"I need to leave, Magda. Now."

"Hon, it would be in your best interest to stay. It's just one night. Per haps there is a relative we could call and let them know you're here."

"Yes, call my sister, she'll need to come pick me up. Her number is 555-5309." Delaney was trying to move about and finding the IV was getting in the way. "Magda, please unhook the IV."

"You need to stay."

Delaney glared at her, "Look, Magda, you mean well, but you can not keep me from Sven. He is THAT good."

"There is an officer right outside your door."

"Magda, you don't understand, he won't care." Delaney was feeling the beginnings of panic course through her.

"Why don't you go take a shower, you'll feel better once you've cleaned yourself up. Here, I'll take the IV drip away. your fluids should be replenished enough by now." She was undoing the IV and Delaney was counting to ten. "There you go, now let's get you into the shower." Magda scooted her to the bathroom, giving her a fresh hospital gown and robe to change into.

"Where are my clothes?"

"Unfortunately the EMTs had to cut them off of you hon, your purse and other belongings are on the chair next to your bed. While you're in the shower I'll call your sister. Her name is?"

"Debra, Debra McAllister."

Lancelot watched Tristan pacing the waiting room. He was on the cell phone, pacing in front of a block of windows. He was smirking, the first few times Tristan had tried to pace the full room his phone cut off. He could only get signal next to the windows. He nodded his head a couple of times then muttered gruffly "bye" then sat down next to Lancelot handing him the phone. "We're going to be here awhile."

"Why do you say that?"

"REmember I told you I had a new lead on an old collar? Seems the young woman we rescued is that lead."

"Let me guess, this has to do with Sven?"

"Yes, seems she's his ex wife, and has a restraining order against him, that and my contacts haven't seen him since he left her house."

"She has a cop guarding her, so it's not like he's coming here."

"I wouldn't put it past him."

They sat in mutual silence. Lancelot playing solitaire on the cell phone and Tristan noting everyone that entered and exited the room. A young woman with dark blonde hair and a brief case entered into the room and walked purposefully to the front desk. Her black trench was belted tightly at her waist and her hair was done in a perfect french roll, not a hair out of place. Her tortoise shell glasses were perched atop a perfectly pert nose. She smiled briefly at the receptionist. Tristan couldn't hear what she said but when the receptionist replied it must not have been what she wanted to hear. Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared, and then again the sweet sachrin smile was pasted upon her lips. Soon the nurse who gave him a poking was smiling at her. Tristan smirked, this was going to be fun. To his disappointment, the nurse escorted the woman through the door and down the hall to the patient quarters.

Delaney got out of the shower and threw on the hospital gown and robe. She walked over to where her purse was and was going through it when she heard the door to her room open. "Delaney, you have a visitor." Delaney turned in time to see Magda leaving and her sister standing there.

"God, Delaney!'

Delaney smirked, "So I do look as bad as I feel." Delaney commented as she went and hugged her sister. "Debs, I'm so glad you're here. They won't let me leave."

"I saw the cop standing outside the door. That leads me to believe that Sven is responsible."

"The one and only." There was a knock on the door and Magda peeked in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but the gentlemen that brought you in would really like to see you. It's your choice, I'll be more than happy to tell them to leave."

"That's okay Magda, the least I could do is thank them."

Magda left and Debs looked over her sister. "Did the officers document all of these marks?"

"Yes, Debs." Debra was pulling at the robe that Laney was wearing.

"What's this?"

"What's what?"

"Laney, you have marks on your back. Take off your robe." Delaney shrugged off the robe with a sigh. She knew what marks her sister had found. "How the hell did he do this?"

"THey aren't fresh, Debs."

"I didn't know about these."

"I'm sorry I dont' go around telling everyone everything."

Debs looked at her sister, "Laney, I'm so sorry." She took Laney in her arms and hugged her furociously. Just then the door opened.

Lancelot and Tristan walked in to see the well coifed woman hugging the woman the rescued. Her hospital gown barely covering anything. They noticed the welts upon the woman's back and both glanced at each other. Lancelot shook himself, clearing his throat both to get the women's attention and to clear his head. His body was reacting in strange ways. He wanted to go hold her and comfort her and had another feeling of wanting to run his tongue over every welt.

Delaney quickly pulled away from her sister and turned around, at the same time trying to pull the hospital gown closed. It was useless; sticking to her still damp body. With a sigh of defeat she grabbed the robe from the bed. "I need to thank you, for rescuing me."

Tristan stared at her, "I think it's more like we found you." Tristan shook the hand offered him and at the slight contact had the odd sensation of the touch being familiar. The marks he had seen upon her back bothered him. He felt as if he had seen them fresh and bleeding. He shrugged. He would contemplate it later.

Debra walked over to them, "I'm Debra McAllister, and I thank you for finding my sister." She reached out her hand to both of them. Lancelot flashed his most charming smile and Tristan quickly shook her hand mumbling your welcome.

"Yes, well, I have a couple questions for your sister, Ms. McAllister."

"Debra, please."

"What kind of questons, Mr?"

"Tristan Emmrich, I'm a bounty hunter of a sort, and am after Sven Miloslav."

"My ex husband. What did he do for you to be after him?"

"He has connections with the Russian Moffia."

Debra looked from Delaney to Tristan. "Don't you think she's in enough trouble with him?"

Lancelot stepped forward, "Excuse me, I'm Lancelot DuLac, I'm friends with this man. Don't you think that your sister is going to have problems with him no matter what?"

Delaney placed a placating hand upon Debs shoulder, "Look, I don't know much. Sven and I have been divorced for a little over three years. He just doesnt' see it that way. He only comes to hunt me down when he is around. Otherwise, it's more or less out of sight out of mind."

"You don't have to help these men if you don't want to, Laney."

"Debs, I have to help them, for reasons you wouldn't understand." Delaney stared at Tristan and Lancelot, trying to not throw herself into Lancelot's arms out of shear happiness to see him. Trying to get her mind wrapped around the fact that this Lancelot has no clue who she is or what they have been through. "I will need protection. Sven as far as I know is MIA."

"You can stay with me, Laney."

"Debs, I'm not doing that to you. I may have already put you at risk just by being my sister. You don't want Sven to come after you, trust me on that."

"You can come stay with me." Tristan offered hesitantly. Lancelot looked over at his friend, eyes questioning. Tristan just shrugged. He was just as suprised that he offered as Lancelot, but wasn't about to let his friend know that.

Lancelot uttered, "You don't even know her."

Delaney studied Tristan, arms folded as she watched his eyes. "Okay."

"Tristan!" Lancelot raised his voice a notch.

"Delaney, you don't even know him!"

"Debs, I can trust him."

"She needs a place to stay," Tristan explained quietly."

"You said that about Sven three years ago!"

"Debra McAllister!" Delaney turned on her sister. Debs actually slouched, "That---- was uncalled for. Or do you think I have not paid properly for that mistake?"

"I'm sorry Laney, but really, you don't know this man and do you know how many women get--"

"Do you know how many women are murdered by their own husbands, lovers, boyfriends every year? So how much danger am I putting myself in by trusting a stranger?"

Debs looked at her worriedly. Lancelot looked from one sister to the other. Tristan cleared his throat and spoke quietly, "You are also welcome to stay with your sister, if that would help put your mind at ease."

"And who's going to come rescue both of us if you turn out to be a homocidal maniac?"

Lancelot couldn't help but smile. He knew Tristan and though his friend looked like one, he knew for certain Tristan wasn't a homocidal maniac, but he could see the point of the lawyer. But the arguement to him was comical. "Debra, may I calll you Debra?" At her nod he continued, "Here is our business card. I work with the company tristan works for as a computer consultant." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, "I am sure with your contacts you can look up the company and hopefully that will give you peace of mind."

Debra snatched the card from Lancelot's hand and chuckled, "Camelot enterprises? Arthur Castus CEO?" She looked from Lancelot to Tristan, "You've got to be kidding me?"

Both of the men smirked and shook their heads, "Well I guess with a name like Arthur you might as well play into it."

"On the back of the card is my cell phone number, call anytime."

Debra looked at Delaney and gave her another hug, "I don't mean to hurt you, sis, but I worry."

"Debs, I'm not a baby. Remember, only a year seperates us."

"I know." Debra pulled herself together. She pulled on her trenchcoat and then looked at her sister, "Let me guess, you don't have any other clothes?"

"No." She shrugged off her trenchcoat and handed it to Delaney. "I know you well enough to know you won't spend the night in the hospital. Put the coat on, I'll help you with getting out of here." She then turned to Tristan and Lancelot, "If anything happens to my little sister, I will have all business licenses and whatever else I can revoked."

"Yes, Ma'am." They said in unison. With that Debra sashayed out of Laney's room and down the hall. Delaney quickly put on the trench coat. She then pulled on her hiking boots, the only things that she still had from her original attire and grabbed her purse. "Get me out of here." She muttered as she left.


	3. First night at the Cabin

A/N I make no money, the only characters that are mine are Delaney and Debra and the plot. Love the reviews keep them coming !! C.J.

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Tristan drove. Lancelot sat in the passenger seat and Delaney sat in the back, staring out the window. They had just left Debra's house where Delaney had gotten a couple sets of clothes that she had left there. Every once in awhile she'd catch Tristan staring at her through the rear view mirror.

"Why don't we set her up in a hotel room, Tris."

"How do you plan on guarding her from Sven in a hotel room?"

"How would he find out she's in summit?"

"Trust me, the safest place for her is my cabin."

"If it's the money, I'll pay for it."

Tristan glanced at his friend, "It's not the money, Lance, it's what's best for her."

"Why are you protective of her? You don't even know her?"

Tristan threw a file onto his lap, "Read that and then maybe that'll answer some questions."

"There isn't enough light for me to read."

"Then trust me on this and read it when we get to the cabin."

Once again Tristan glanced at the woman staring quietly out the window in his backseat. He gripped the wheel a bit tighter. The image of her placing a hand upon his arm under a different starlit night floated through his mind. The same haunted eyes stared back into his now. He then glanced at the man next to him. Lancelot normally was concerned for the people they helped, yet he seemed to be trying to figure out ways to distance himself from this one. He then placed his full attention on the road.

Lancelot looked from Tristan to the woman in the backseat, back out the window again. He knew her. From where he couldn't figure it out. But he knew it probably wasn't a happy memory. The marks on her back made him tighten his hands around the file. He felt the pulse thrumming in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. He felt strangely protective of this woman, which was never a good sign. No the best thing to do was to keep this one away from him as much as possible.

Lancelot's cell phone rang and he grabbed it, "Lance here." After a moment of eye rolling he handed it to Tristan, "It's for you. It's Galahad."

"Look, if you want to talk to her you can at the cabin. No you are not taking her in. Galahad, listen to me, Sven is feeding you a line of Bull. Galahad--" Tristan hung up the phone and threw it onto the dashboard. "Damn, that man."

"What does detective goody two shoes want now?"

"Sven filed charges against Delaney for attempted murder."

"And Duddley do-right believes him?"

"something about some stiches around his neck made it seem plausible."

"Has he seen this file?"

"Apparently not."

"And he was calling you..."

"Apparently a nurse said that we had taken Delaney and her sister."

"Taken?"

"Not taken as in kidnapped, but taken them out of the hospital."

"Better call Delaney's sister."

Tristan smirked at that, "I would love to see Debra tear into Galahad."

"That's something I'd be willing to sell tickets for."

"Here's the deal, he was threatening to put us in jail for obstruction of justice."

"How the hell--"

"Why do you think I hung up on him? Give me the phone, let me call Debra."

They came to a stop outside a rustic looking cabin. Complete with a porch that spanned the front of it. Delaney undid her door and was shocked to find Tristan holding it for her. "Thank you, " she mumbled as she stepped out and then followed him into the house. "Let me show you to your room."

Delaney rose from the bed. She had gotten here and Tristan was gracious enough to show her to her room. It was a small one, but cozy. A four poster bed and what looked to be a hand sewn quilt covered it. A heavy wood chest of drawers stood at the foot of the bed and that was the furnishings, save for a small lamp table with a small tiffany style lamp upon it. A large window looked out upon the mountain side. She stared at the snow covered trees, feeling out of place.

"Is everything okay?"

Delaney jumped at the sound of the voice. She shook her head and stared at Tristan, "It's fine. I'm just a bit out of sorts."

"Understandable. If you need anything we'll be in the kitchen."

"Thank you, Tristan." With a nod of his head he was gone. She stared once again out the window. "we'll" be in the kitchen he had said. He and Lancelot. She shut her eyes, willing her body to forget his touch that it craved. She flopped down upon the bed and grabbed for one of the pillows, hugging it to her she played over the scenes from the past few months in the time of Arthur. She felt the tears threaten and forced them back.

"Your bags, Delaney." His voice floated to her from her dreams, the same accent but not the same. She looked up, seeing the object of her affection staring at her from the doorway. A black silk shirt tucked into black dress pants. A black leather belt with a silver buckle the only color on the ensemble. She stared at the goatee and then the eyes. There was no playful sparkle in those eyes when regarding her. This Lancelot's eyes were guarded.

"Oh thank you, Lancelot, Just leave them and I'll deal with them."

He stared at her a moment, her hunched form begging to be comforted. Since when did he give comfort to strangers? He asked himself. Well comfort as far as rescue yes, but comfort as in a friend in need? That wasn't his job. They left that to Arthur or Dagonet. "If you're hungry there are some sandwiches made in the kitchen."

"Thanks." Delaney muttered as she watched him duck out quickly.

Lancelot sat with a white knuckled grip around a glass of wine and the file Tristan had thrown at him opened on the table His jaw held a tick as he looked at the pictures. The black and white shots somehow made it more glib; more horrific. Tristan pulled up a chair and sat next to him. Lancelot looked up, "He eviscerated these women while raping them? What kind of sadist--" He didn't finish the sentence as he read further; his teeth clinched and eyes in a permanent wince.

"Now do you see why I have her here? Do you think a cop could protect her?"

"Do the police know of this?"

"I don't know. This happened in Russia, once these women had served their purpose, that is what he did to them. Knowing that his relationship with Delaney is personal, I think he would make her torment even worse."

Both men sat in cold silence, the folder was closed. "You have to show this to Galahad." Lancelot finally said.

"I know." Tristan agreed quietly.

"What's your problem?" Lancelot asked sharply.

Tristan stared at his friend, taking a swig of beer, "I should be asking you the same, Lance."

"Meaning?" His voice had a hint of menace.

"You normally show at least an ounce of empathy." He gestured with his beer towards the hall, "With this woman, you are pushing her away."

"Sorry if I am not Mother Theresa." Lancelot stated sarcastically, his eyes staring at the folder.

"I think it's more than that." Tristan turned the chair next to Lancelot and straddled it, his hands balancing his beer on the back of it.

"Meaning?" His eyebrow shot up.

"Meaning, you feel something for her and that scares you." Tristan purposely studied his beer, swirling the amber liquid around in its bottle. He felt something for this woman and it didn't quite scare him, but it left him wondering.

Lancelot stared at his friend, was that it? He took a sip of wine. "Is Galahad coming?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, along with Debra. Something about the fact if some wanna be big city cop wants to try and take her sister in on trumped up charges she can be her attorney."

"Oh this could get interesting." Lancelot said with a boyish grin.

"that it could, especially if she sees the file." Tristan took another drink.

Lancelot contemplated that, "Does Delaney know of this file?" He asked carefully, trying to hide any concern that may color his voice.

"She does now. She was in the truck when I gave it to you."

"Are you going to let her see it?" He took a cautious sip of his wine.

"Something tells me she has lived it, Lance. Save the evisceration. Obviously."

"This is the stuff of nightmares Tris."

"I know."

Lancelot gripped his friend's arm. "I know how much collaring Sven means to you. I know you are doing this in memory of Audrey."

"Thanks." Tristan took the file and got up, leaving Lancelot to his own thoughts.

Delaney finally closed the book she was reading. The words were blurring on the page as her mind kept taking her to the Lancelot she knew. She didn't know how many times she had gone over her lifetime at the wall in the past hour. With a sigh she rose from the bed and made her way quietly down the hall. The sound of voices floating to her ears guided her. She found them seated around a round table in Tristan's kitchen. All of them. She wanted to go hug them fiercely to her and yet she knew these men didn't know her. She cleared her throat, "Where are the glasses?" Tristan immediately stood and walked over to the cupboard. "Here." He handed her a glass. " and the silverware is in the drawer next to the stove. Plates, well they're drying in the dish strainer over by the sink." He replied rather sheepishly.

Bors chuckled, "Suddenly decided to do dishes since you had company did you, Trist?"

Ignoring the comment Tristan asked, "What would you like to drink? Water, coffee, something a bit harder?"

"A bit harder would be good."

"Tristan, now you're sounding like Lance, here." Gawain patted Lancelot upon the back.

Delaney blushed. Tristan smirked, "Wine or beer."

"I'll have a glass of wine."

After receiving her glass of wine, she was about to leave when Arthur asked, "Would you please join us?"

"What are you playing?"

"Uno."

"That I can handle." She sat down in a chair next to Dagonet. "Hi," she said quietly as she picked up the cards that were being delt to her.

"Hello, my name is Dagonet, my friend's call me Dag."

"Hello Dag, I'm Delaney, my friends call me Laney."

They had played through a hand when Bors piped up, "So I hear you're going to be Tristan's "guest" for awhile." He made guest sound as if it meant more than it should.

"Yes, hopefully I don't inconvenience him for long."

"I wouldn't call you an inconvenience." Gawain muttered under his breath.

Bors nudged him, "Now, Gawain what would Kensey say?"

Everyone chuckled at Gawain's red face. There was a knock at the door and someone came in yelling, "Where is she?"

Gawain looked at Delaney and muttered, "that would be Galahad."

A young man then came through the kitchen, his hair longish, with sparkling blue eyes and fresh baby face framed by a sandy blonde goatee. "Are you Delaney Macallister once Delaney Malatov?"

Delaney rose from where she sat, reached across the table and offered her hand, "Please to meet you--"

In answer Galahad slapped on a pair of handcuffs, "Galahad Alarich. you are now under arrest for the attempted murder of Sven Anatoli AKA Brent Maratov."

Delaney stared opened mouthed at the handcuffs. He was trying to pull her around the table and she wasn't moving. Lancelot stood up, "Look duddly, I think you should wait a moment and get all the facts."

Gawain stared at his brother open mouthed and disbelieving. Dagonet had just risen from his seat and Bors was just lunging across the table. Arthur was just about to speak when a petite blonde haired woman sandwiched herself between Galahad and Arthur.

"Damn right he should get all the facts." A breathless Debra exclaimed. Her hair was disheveled and her glasses askew. She was quickly divesting herself of her trench coat, letting it hang away from her undone but still wearing it. "I don't care who you think you are, Detective wanna be big man. but you have no right to put this woman under arrest. Can you not tell it was self defense?"

"From what the report said--"

Debra slapped his hand with a stack of papers, "Here, to refresh your memory. Restraining order dated, 3 years ago. Restraining order dated a year ago, and finally a restraining order dated a month ago. Oh and yes, why? The judge felt that Brent would be a danger to my sister. He was to be no less than a hundred yards from her. could not be in her place of business and could not go to her house. Oh but you can read all that yourself." Debra paused, pushed her glasses back into place and looked up at him; sacchrin smile painted on her flushed lips. "You can read correct?"

"Look, Miss I don't know who you are. My name is--"

"Galahad Alrich, youngest man to make detective in Summit PD History. Yes I know. And I am Debra MacAllister, attorney for Delaney MacAllister."

Arthur smiled at the young woman, "Debra McAllister, you are known in business circles. Pleasure to meet you."

"And you are?" Debra asked, peevishly, she hated being interrupted.

"Arthur, Arthur Castus." He held out his hand. Debra shook it and genuinely smiled.

"You're Arthur Castus? Oh my God, well hell, wonder's never cease!" She looked at Delaney who was staring at her with a confused look on her face, "Mr. Zarnicky, the head of my law firm; he handles Arthur's account. I just knew him as Arthur, I never knew he was that Arthur."

"Now that we're done with all the introductions, I'm taking Ms. McAllister to jail." Galahad started pulling on the handcuf. Delaney gritted her teeth, trying to keep it on her lower wrist. It kept rubbing against the scabs that were already there. Finally she bellowed, "Are you an idiot? Can you not see I have sores on my wrists as it is?" She pulled up her sleeve for all to see.

Galahad stopped his tugging and bowed his head, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize--"

"Exactly, so maybe you should sit down and listen to Her story, hmm?" Debra commented, hands on hips.

"Well, that might--"

"Just say, Yes, Ms. McAllister."

"No, no." Galahad shook himself, "That is for a judge to decide. It doesn't matter what story she has. She can press charges as well against Mr. Malatov." He started pulling on Debra's arm again. "Come with me Ms. McAllister."

Debra grabbed his hand, putting pressure on the nerve between the thumb and index finger. "I suggest you unhand my sister." She growled quietly.

Galahad gritted his teeth together, he knew the move quite well. He had no choice but to turn and confront Debra, letting go of Delaney in the process. "I can just as easily arrest you as well, for assaulting an officer of the law."

"Oh you want to go that route do you?"

"You keep it up I'll nail you with so many charges--" She had her finger out and poking him in the chest. They were eye to eye, both had nostrils flaring.

Arthur finally spoke, "Why don't we see what Delaney has to say? It wouldn't hurt would it Galahad?"

Galahad stared at Arthur a moment he then sat down in a seat that Tristan had pulled up behind him. He then turned and looked Delaney in the eye and muttered quietly, "Ms. McAllister, please, tell me your story."

Debra leaned against the counter next to the sink. Oposite her, Tristan sitting attop the counter on the otherside of the sink. She gave her sister a reassuring smile, "Come on Delaney, we're all friends here." she then glared at Galahad, "Well, almost all."

Delaney folded her hands in her lap, the handcuff still dangling. She started pushing back her cuticles. She took a deep breath. Months ago, she told Tristan this story. Now, she was having to repeat it, around all of them. She tucked her ankles under the chair and crossed them, bending her head down, watching her nail slowly push the skin back from the nail. Her hair fell in front of her face effectively blocking the bruised cheek and split lip. "I had come home from teaching. It being a Friday, I was looking forward to a weekend to myself. I unlocked my door, placed the mail on my entry way table. Set my keys and purse next to it. When I felt someone grab me from behind."

Finally she dared to look up. She went to take a sip of wine and realized her glass was dry. As if on cue Lancelot had gotten up and immediately was refreshing it for her. She smiled her thanks at him.

Debra glared at Galahad, "Still taking her in?"

"I have to, she has charges against her."

"But they're trumped up." Debra's voice raised an octive.

"Be that as it may I am--"

Lancelot quietly interjected, "You could always have her under house arrest. Until you can figure out for sure if the charges were brought against her for malicious reasons."

Galahad paused, thinking. "I might be able to do that."

"Might? How about you will!" Debra started forward. Tristan placed a hand upon her shoulder. She turned and looked at the man. About to retort. Tristan's serious brown eyes stopped her.

Tristan then cast his gaze at Galahad, "Galahad, you have a choice. You leave here without Ms. McAllister, or I keep you here."

"You can't do that!"

"Do not tell me what I can or cannot do, boy. I did not say it was legal. But, you will not take this woman off my property." He didn't yell, he didn't even raise his voice. But the tone brooked no arguement.

"Give me a reason, Tris."

Without a word Lancelot threw the folder at Galahad. "Enjoy." He said curtly, his jaw ticking.

Debra quieried an eyebrow Delaney stared at the folder. Both looked at the manilla covering as if it were a snake ready to attack. Galahad slowly scooted it closer to him. "What's this?" He asked.

"Something you need to see." Tristan said quietly.

Without a word Debra moved from the counter to stand over Galahad. Galahad's jaw clenched as he looked at the first picture. Debra's eyes reflected her horror. She reached over behind Gawain and clasped Delaney's shoulder.

Delaney moved to look at what was in the folder, Lancelot spoke, "You do not want to see that. You have been through enough to know Sven is an evil man. You don't need to see further proof." Delaney looked up at the man staring at her. Something about the haunted look in his eyes spoke volumes. She gave a slight nod and went back to drinking her wine. She patted her sister's hand affectionantly, trying not to say anything as she felt the nails inbed themselves in the flesh of her shoulder.

Finally Galahad closed the folder. Without looking up he asked, "Where did you get this?"

Tristan cleared his throat and then spoke, "My contacts. That is what Sven did while in what used to be Russia."

With a deep heavy sigh Galahad looked at Delaney, "I won't be taking you in." He rose from the table, grabbing the folder, "I'll need this."

"Take it, I can get another if I need it."

"Are you going after that bastard?" Debra asked in a low growl.

"Yes."

"Get him. Get him and make him pay." Galahad nodded towards Debra and quickly left.

Debra bent down and gave Delaney a quick fierce hug. "I'm okay, Sis."

"You have no idea, Delaney." She muttered as she patted her shoulder.

Delaney smiled tiredly, "Sis, I'm afraid I have a very good idea. I just happen to still be alive."

Debra blinked back tears and patted Delaney again on her shoulder. She then turned and put on her best professional smile, "Well, I shall be off. I'll be in touch." She knotted her trenchcoat, gathered up the papers she had given to Galahad and which he had left and started for the door. Tristan followed behind, "I'll see you out."

At the door Tristan gave pause, "I need your help."

Debra turned, raising a questioning eyebrow, "What kind of help?"

"With your connections, I need you to see if you can find the families of those women in that file. They deserve closure."

"They do. But why me?"

"I want this kept quiet. Going through Galahad, it wouldn't be so quiet."

"Understood. It's the least I can do. Keep my sister safe. I doubt that Brent is that far. Far enough to avoid the cops, but he'll want Delaney dead. After seeing that file... I know that for a fact. He'll make her wish she were dead long before he kills her too."

Tristan stared into the woman's eyes. She said it matter of factly, as if this didn't matter. Her eyes showed different. Her eyes still were seeing all of those brutally cut up women and picturing her sister being one of them.

Unconciously Debra reached out, squeezed Tristan's forearm, and turned and walked to her waiting car.

Tristan watched as she climbed into the dark colored Lexus. He still stared after it even when it had long gone. No one, had ever touched him without permission. Yet, his arm was warm where her hand had lain.


	4. Soap Suds

A/N I make no money from this. All errors are mine, and mine alone... everything else... I do not own.

&

Delaney startled awake. Then she inhaled deeply and breathed out slowly. She had been dreaming of the moment Morgan had magiked her away. She felt the wetness on her face and brushed the tears away with her hand absently. Only in her sleep would she cry. She rose from the bed and looked out the window; it was a starless night. She glanced at her book resting atop the night stand; but that didn't interest her. She wanted to go outside and try to organize her thoughts. She walked down the hallway, she paused on her way by the great room when light caught her eye. She smiled to herself. Lancelot had fallen asleep with his laptop upon his lap; his head tilted to the side of the wing back chair. He was snoring softly. She fought the urge to run her hand against his cheek. Instead she kept walking and quietly opened the door to the outside. After closing it softly behind her she walked to the side of the porch and leaned into the corner post; making out the invisible shapes of the mountains in the near distance.

The night air was chilly, but there was no breeze. She closed her eyes and inhaled the pine scent of the surrounding forest.

"Don't you think you should be in bed?" Tristan asked softly as he sipped his coffee.

Delaney jumped. "You live to do that don't you?"

"Do what?"

Then it dawned on her. This Tristan had only made her jump just now. Not the Tristan she knew who would purposely sneak up on her. She sighed, she felt utterly alone.

Tristan watched her. Whenever he looked at her and studied her other images would superimpose themselves upon her. Other Memories would surface. Other feelings would come to light. He took another sip of coffee.

Delaney ignored Tristan. Hoping that the Tristan she knew and this one had one trait in common; that being silence. So far, she was right. She shivered.

Tristan noticed her body shiver. He took off the flannel overshirt he had on over his sweater and draped it across her shoulders. She reached up to help him and brushed against his hand. The moment their hands touched Tristan stiffened. Memories came flooding in. From him holding a snake and her looking at him as if she wanted him to eat the thing to him flogging her. To wiping sweat from her brow in a darkened room. Then last but not least, the look on her face as she disappeared from his sight.

Delaney felt him stiffen, "I'm sorry." She mumbled.

Tristan shook himself. He was no longer seeing images imposing themselves onto the now. He realized that somehow the past and present had somehow righted themselves. "Sorry for what?"

"I didn't mean to--"

"I don't mind the touch of a beautiful woman." He said with a wink.

Delaney stared at him flumexed for a moment. Then she said, "Lancelot always fall sleep in the chair like that?"

"When we're working cases together, that is normal."

"He isn't a bounty hunter as well?"

"No. He runs the local gentleman's club here in Summit."

"As in a nude bar?"

"Topless"

Delaney had to chuckle. "Figures." Tristan shot her a questioning look. "Nothing." Delaney mumbled.

Tristan wanted to tell her about his visions and memories, feeling in his gut that she would understand, but decided against it, "Arthur and Gwen are coming over tomorrow. Gwen will be driving in from Denver. If you need her to stop by your house and pick up some clothes for you, I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"I couldn't ask her to do that."

"You wouldn't be. I would."

"Still--"

Tristan held up his hand, "You need clothes, yes?"

"Well yeah."

"Do you wish to purchase them or use the one's you already have?"

"Since I don't have a lot of money, probably the one's in my closet."

"Then that's it. I'll call and ask her. She can always say no."

"Yeah but she won't will she?"

"No."

After a few more moments in silence Delaney shivered again, "I'm heading in." She slipped off the shirt and handed it to Tristan. "Thanks."

"No problem"

Delaney walked into the house. She half expected Tristan to be behind her, he wasn't. She paused in the doorway of the great room; the fire in the fireplace looked inviting. The fact she would be in the same breathing space as Lancelot was a bonus. After a moment she walked to her room, grabbed the book from the night stand and went and sat on the pile of cushions next to the fireplace.

Next thing she knew she was being nudged gently. Her eyes didn't want to open, the last vestiges of the dream wafted away on the last gossamer wings of sleep. With a groan she opened her eyes, "What?" She asked crossly.

Lancelot awoke and closed his computer. He was about to turn off the lights when her sleeping form by the fire caught his attention. Her book had fallen onto her chest and her hand hung towards the floor. He should just leave her sleeping. But, she didn't look comfortable. With a heavy sigh he got up and walked over to her and kneeled down, perusing her as she slept. Something about her called to him. He shoved the voice to a far corner, for some stranger to make him have a pull on him; well that didn't bode well. He was going to shake her hand and thought better of it. Her wrist looked swollen. Images from the file he had looked at earlier flooded his mind. He suddenly pictured this woman's body nude and cut up and felt bile rise in his throat. He clenched his fists. After settling his emotions he nudged her shoulder. She didn't respond. So he grasped it and shook it as gently as possible. She awoke with a groan. Startled sapphire eyes met his. She wasn't happy to be waked up.

Immediately Delaney sat up, causing the book to slide to the floor. She quickly reached to retrieve it; Lancelot doing the same. They hit their heads together with a "crack". Delaney winced and Lancelot asked "Are you okay?" He started feeling her forehead. "I'm fine; l just jarred my head a bit."

Lancelot quickly pulled his hands away from her skin. They were tingling where they had come in contact. "You might want to go to bed, I'm sure it's more comfortable than lying here."

Delaney stretched; feeling her muscles twinge in response, "You're probably right."

Lancelot stepped back and reached out his hand. Delaney made an attempt to get up by herself, but the moment she tried putting weight on her leg it gave, "Hate it when the leg falls asleep and doesn't wake up when you do, "she quipped. Finally grasping Lancelot's proffered hand hesitantly.

He helped her to her feet effortlessly, her touch warm and tingling once again in his hand. As soon as she seemed okay on her own two feet he dropped his hand. With a slight bow he commented, "Goodnight, Delaney," and turned on his heel and quickly and assuredly walked out of the room.

Delaney stared after his retreating form. He wasn't running away exactly but he was defiantly not waiting for her to catch up either. With a sigh she walked down the hall to her room.

Tristan met Guinevere in the driveway. "Were you able to get clothes for her?"

"Yes, Tris, I was able to stop by her house. Her sister met me there with the key."

"Good. I talked to her a bit. I'm doing some research for her. She's going to be out Sunday so she can take Delaney Monday morning to see her psychologist."

"Psychologist?" Guinevere raised an eyebrow.

"Part of the stipulation of her release early from the hospital."

Guinevere shut the back of her black SUV and carried a cosmetic bag and hanging bag over her arm; while Tristan carried two suitcases. "What did you pack?"

"I didn't know what to pack so Deb and I picked out a bit of everything, even going out clothes; as she called it."

"Where do you plan on taking her? Sven is still out there."

"Tris, I don't plan on taking her anywhere, but she is going to be here until you or someone else apprehends him so I suggest you take her somewhere sometime besides here. Being trapped in your own thoughts isn't necessarily a good thing you know?"

Tristan just humphed as he walked down the hall towards Delaney's room. He dropped the bags at the foot of the bed. Guinevere had gone across the hall and put the hanging bag on the back of the bathroom door and the cosmetic bag on the counter. They then walked together to the great room. Delaney was by the fire place reading while Lancelot was sitting back in the wingback chair staring at his computer.

"Laney," Tristan called quietly. He smiled as he saw her place her finger in the middle of the page; steadying the book on her lap as she looked up. "This is Gwenivere, Arthur's wife."

Guinevere immediately walked over to the blonde woman. "Hey, I'm Gwen; don't let these oafs make you think we stand on formality here." They shook hands and Delaney closed her book, standing.

"Thank you so much for stopping by my place. I greatly appreciate it."

"Oh it was nothing.I had fun with Debbie going through your stuff ," she said with a smile.

"Debbie? She let you call her Debbie? You do realize how privileged you are right?"

Gwen chuckled, "I called her Debbie and then asked if it were okay and she said it was fine."

"Oh she must really like you!" Laney chuckled in spite of herself.

Tristan watched the by play curiously. Lancelot glanced up at the two women and then shut his laptop. "I'm getting something to eat." he said to no one in particular.

"Hey Lance, Hon, why don't you make sandwiches or something for everyone since you're heading that way anyway," Gwen called.

"What do I look like?" He asked as he turned, his face holding a glower while his eyes danced playfully.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Gwen asked, teasing.

He stared at her a moment, fighting a smile, then said... "No not really. But be careful my lady, you may wish for a food tester once I'm finished."

"Don't mind him." Tristan explained to Laney. "These two pick on each other like brother and sister all the time."

Delaney found her sides and face hurting, the by play between Lancelot and Gwen was making it hard for her to eat from all the laughing.

Lancelot stared at her, and after swallowing the bit in his mouth he commented, "Keep it up, she won't quit if she has an audience."

"Oh and what are you going to do to the poor girl Lance? Make her eat your cooking?"

"I made lunch didn't I?"

"Anyone can throw lunchmeat on a piece of bread, Lance, even you."

"I'll have you know I can cook."

"Breakfast doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"Because, I don't want you cooking me breakfast, that's Arthur's job."

"What exactly do you want then?"

"that's between myself and Art."

Lancelot rolled his eyes. "I meant from me, Woman!"

"Oh well that... I want you dressed in a maid's outfit cooking a fine dinner."

"What warped desires do you hold?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Gwen said with a wink of her eye.

"I don't want to know." Lancelot held up his hands. "I give, okay? I don't' want to know what my best friend does behind closed doors."

"That's not what Arttie says."

Lancelot got up from the table, taking his plate to the sink. "I made lunch, someone can clean it up."

Delaney quickly rose, "I'll clean up."

"We'll both clean up." Gwen stood, taking dishes with her. "Now boys, scoot. Let us women chit chat and talk girly things."

Tristan and Lancelot sat in the great room while the sounds of the women's giggles floated through the air. "It's good to hear her laugh." Lancelot observed.

"Yes it is. I'm surprised you haven't tried to make her laugh yourself, Lance."

"Why is that?" Lancelot asked with a queried eyebrow.

"You care for her do you not?"

"She seems nice enough."

"Lance!"

"What do you want from me Tristan?"

"To admit you have feelings for her."

"Why, because you do?"

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Lancelot, if you would only open up your eyes." Tristan studied him, "They are not all like Julia."

"You don't think I know that?"

"I know you do." Tristan said softly. Lancelot sighed.

"I'm sorry, Tris, Delaney seems nice enough. But really, look at what she has probably been through? I don't want to be having to be her healer as well as my own. You go after her, I know you fancy her."

"I do fancy her, on some level. But, not that way, Lance. And maybe you two could heal each other. Did that ever occur to you?" With that he got up from his seat, squeezed his friend's shoulder and went into the kitchen.

When Tristan got into the kitchen his eyes were greeted by soap suds covering the counter tops, floor, and two women; top of their heads to their toes. "What the hell?"

"We got into a water fight." Delaney said, wiping suds from her eyes.

"Is that what it's called?"

Gwen was clutching her sides, the long tail of her braid holding onto an especially foamy soap suds as it dripped onto the floor. "Oh Tristan, quit looking as if we totally messed up your kitchen. It's going to be the cleanest it's been since you moved in here."

"It better be. I don't want to be responsible for either of you falling and breaking your perky little bumms."

Gwen cackled and threw a sponge dripping with soap suds at him. Delaney grabbed the sprayer and hosed him off. Leaving a sputtering dripping wet Tristan in the middle of his kitchen, laughing at the women.

Lancelot stood in the doorway guffawing. "You look like a drowned rat!"

"Oh now isn't that just perfect!" Tristan said as he reached for the sponge off the floor and threw it at Lancelot. Lancelot took a step forward and turned to avoid the sponge, only to slide and in his attempt to catch himself on the stove handle ended up sitting in a puddle of water at Tristan's feet. Delaney bent over, offering him her hand; grinning. "Here, let me help you up." Lancelot instead of letting her take all of his weight pulled her down too. Women laughing at him! Ha!

Gwen laughed even harder, "You were worried about us landing on our pert little bumms eh? I believe it was one of you strapping males that did it first!"

"Oh you want to go there do you!" Tristan grabbed her braid and they were all in a giggling heap on the floor when Arthur walked in.

Arthur looked at all the giggling bodies on the floor then looked at Tristan, "I have heard of manual labor Tris, but making people mop the floor with their bumms is a bit much don't you think?"

Lancelot and Tristan grabbed Arthur around the knees and both of them pulled him down into the mass of water, bubbles, and giggles.


End file.
